


And I Know You're Dressed Up

by Flames_and_Jade



Series: Lego House (Loved You Better Now) [2]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Family Feels, Fluff, Halloween Costumes, Kidfic, M/M, Parenthood, Physical Disability, dad sex, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-13 22:36:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16481036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flames_and_Jade/pseuds/Flames_and_Jade
Summary: Magic Ears, Iron Man costumes and being too tired.Or,Pete, Patrick, Oliver and Anastasia do Halloween.





	And I Know You're Dressed Up

**Author's Note:**

> Hey loves! So I swear I have a whole story about Anastasia in the works (all Snitches' fault! I mean...all thanks to her!) but until then...I wanted to go back to them just a bit for this. I had another idea that just wasn't working for Trick or Pete! and...this just seemed like it wanted to be written. 
> 
> HUGE thanks to Snitches and Shattered_mirrors_and_lace for cheerleading, and also to Snitches for picking up like literally ALL the slack as Real Life kicked my butt and I did literally nothing to help for this whole shebang. <3 Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

  


“Why does ‘Stasia need magic ears, Papa?” Oliver asked for what seemed like the hundredth time as Pete slipped the molds into her ears, settling the plastic receivers over the delicate curve. “ _Papaaaaaaa._ ” Oliver whined and he shook his head as he gave his son a look of frustrated acceptance.

 

“Ollie, hang on, you can’t always get answers right away, dude.” He settled the soft pink headband over her explosion of curls, tucking the receivers in and smoothing it all down, hoping that it wasn’t pinching or pulling.  As always, she watched him with wide solemn eyes and he couldn’t help but hold his breath as he switched on the bulky pink hearing aids that _this_ would be the day she’d smile at the sound of his voice. “How’s that feel, princess?” He asked softly but she just stared back, inscrutable, so he pressed a kiss to her forehead and swung her up into his arms as he answered his son. “Sometimes things happen and parts of our bodies grow differently than normal--”

 

“--Like how Uncle Andy can pull his arm out!” Oliver interrupted, excited all at once to supply amplification to the oft-repeated explanation. He was still apparently impressed that Andy could  dislocate his shoulder at will and then pop it back in.

 

“Yes, just like that. Stasia’s ears grew different, so we’re trying to figure out how to help her hear like you and me.” He was proud of the way they’d come up to explain their youngest’s disability to their son...both of them had adamantly agreed that they didn’t ever want to present her deafness as something _wrong_ . It was simply _different_ , not something to be scoffed at or pitied, and they were going to figure it out together.

 

This explanation seemed to satisfy Oliver as he ran down the stairs, barrelling towards Patrick and the smell of bacon. Pete could hear him yammering to himself and he smiled, shaking his head at the comparison to a irrepressible flash of lightning that seemed to best characterize his son. “Are you hungry, princess? Smells like Daddy’s making bacon! You know bacon is my favorite thing in the whole world to eat, after pizza. Pizza is the best.” He talked lowly, an easy cadence to his words that was apparently very important for Anastasia’s development. She just sucked her thumb, twisting her fingers in the neck of his shirt as they entered the kitchen and stared with wide eyes that sometimes were blue and sometimes were gray.

 

Settling her into her high chair he threw her a smile, then reached down to throw Ollie in the air, laughing with him as he shrieked in glee before settling him into his own toddler seat at the table.

 

“Can we not throw the children before breakfast?” Patrick gave him a look and he returned it with a meek smirk that held absolutely no contrition. But he still made sure to rub up against Patrick’s ass as he reached for the plates, pressing a kiss to his cheek to Ollie’s _ewwwwww!_ His husband, being the long-suffering saint he was, pinched him in return.

 

Soon enough, they were settled at the table, eating breakfast like civilized adults. Patrick was feeding Stasia homemade pureed sweet potatoes as he munched on his toast, smiling dazzlingly at her each time she took a bite and praising her softly. When the little jar was nearly empty, he wiped her mouth gently and turned to his son.

 

“So, Halloween is next week, right? Do you know what you want to be?”

 

Oliver affected a very serious look, like he was contemplating which parent he should save from certain death. “An Astronaut! Or maybe a cowboy? _NO_ , I want to be _IRON MAN!”_

 

“Dude, I could be Captain America! We’d be like the Avengers!!” Pete dropped his fork and gestured at Ollie like they had just solved world hunger.

 

“ _YESSSSS!!!!!!!”_ They screamed together, and Patrick shook his head as Anastasia dutifully opened her mouth for another mouthful, unperturbed as always.

 

~//~

 

Pete dropped facedown onto the covers and groaned as Patrick followed behind him, closing the bedroom door and sitting next to him. Blowing out a breath, he flopped to his back and settled a hand on Pete’s arm. “Yeah, I know.” He murmured as he kicked off his shoes and let them fall to the hardwood.

 

“I swear the days like...got shorter.” He rolled over and nestled into Patrick’s side as he unbuttoned his pants and kicked them off to follow his shoes. “Like remember when we were like...kids and writing songs in the studio till midnight? I swear it took like ten million hours for the sun to go down.”

 

“First of all, neither of us were exactly _kids_ . Though I was _significantly_ younger and blindingly more mature than you, yes.”

 

“Oh. Yeah. Forgot, I’m a cradle-robber, huh?”

 

“You make it sound so weird.” Patrick rolled his eyes as he started to get up, but Pete pulled him back down, throwing his legs and arms over him and clinging like the starfish Patrick frequently accused him of being. “Oh my gosh, let me up. I want a hot shower.”

 

“Nope.” He scrambled and slithered and barely avoided kneeing Patrick in the balls...but he managed to climb up and settle on top of his husband’s hips. “You have to pay the dad toll.”

 

“I’m pretty sure it’s the _troll_ toll _,_ which you also are.”

 

“Whatever.” Leaning forward, he let his hands fall on either side of Patrick’s head and wiggled his hips to make sure what he felt was _actually_ what he thought it was. “C’mon. It’s been like...sixteen years since we did _anything_ but drool on each other on the couch when we fell asleep watching _Game of Thrones_.”

 

Patrick rolled his eyes at the memory, but the faint blush painting his cheeks told a different story...and so did the telltale bulge under Pete’s own telltale bulge. “What if she wakes up?”

 

“Then she wakes up. Nothing’s going to hurt her in the next five minutes, I promise. Remember how long you spent picking out the crib, she’s never getting out of it before her fifth birthday.” He chuckled at Patrick’s huff of what he felt should be labeled as _adult disapproval_ . But all that mattered was that his lips were soft and easy against his own as he pressed their mouths together. A hand worked at his zipper while the other twisted into his hair, nails scraping gently against his scalp and he considered purring. But instead he gasped into Patrick’s mouth as the hand dipped into his boxers and stroked his _very_ interested cock.

 

“I think you just inferred that I’d only last five minutes.” Patrick huffed as he pushed him over, pulling down the collar of Pete’s shirt, biting at the thorns around his neck as he worked his cock. Pete thought about dying as Patrick stroked him _just_ the way he knew he liked, goddammit. But instead he reached for the top of his boxers, pushing the offensive fabric down past creamy hips and promised himself that he’d re-acquaint himself with said hips _very_ soon. Wrapping his hand around Patrick’s equally hard cock, he stroked him like they were both young, stupid kids and he briefly wondered what it would have been like to meet Patrick when he was seventeen and still gazing at the world through wide blue eyes.

 

That thought was instantly replaced with the pleasure thundering through him as his body suddenly woke up, realizing that it had been _months_ probably since _this_ had happened. He gasped as Patrick rolled up just enough that they could keep their hands on each other’s cocks and kiss, panting and mumbling into each other’s mouths as the responsibilities of _fatherhood_ fell away for just a moment and they were twenty-somethings falling in love over a soundboard.

 

“Gonna--” Patrick whined, hips starting to jerk as he moved with Pete’s hand. “--I’ll see if, _fuck_ \--my mom can watch them, and I’ll--I’ll fuck you, I swear and then--”

 

“--Then I’ll eat you out.” The fingers on his cock twisted so perfectly that Pete considered begging Patrick to let him roll him over and work him open until he was writhing and wanting...but decided to wait, to take what they could right now.  “I’ll eat you out, I swear I just wanna--so bad, and I’ll-- _God_ , I just wanna make you come so hard you think you’re gonna--”

 

“ _Jesusfuck.”_ He felt the way Patrick’s thighs shook against him as he came, shooting slick and warm as he bit his lip like he always did when he was trying to be quiet. The vision of his teeth sinking into that plush flesh that drove Pete fucking _insane_ was enough to have him turning his head to try to muffle his groan into the comforter as he followed him over the edge.

 

A few minutes later, when their breathing had mostly returned to normal, Pete snickered as something _ridiculous_ occurred to him. “Did you seriously just mention your mother while you were _touching my dick_?”

 

“Oh my God, I swear--”

 

~//~

 

Finishing the last snap, Patrick smiled down at his daughter as he picked her up off the changing table, pressing a kiss to her cheek as he settled the pumpkin top hat on her head. The curls nestled inside and he felt reasonably comfortable that the hat wouldn’t interfere with her hearing aids too much. Plus it would keep her ears warm.

 

“Who’s the cutest pumpkin in the world? That’s you, baby girl!” He cooed, smiling as he started going down the stairs to where he could hear Pete and Oliver reenacting some scene or another from the Avengers. “You ready to put them all to shame and get Daddy all the Reeses peanut butter cups?” She just stared at him with her wide blue eyes...and he wondered if she really was living her life in complete silence after all.

 

The house’s two other occupants came into view--Oliver pretending to shoot lasers out his red-and-yellow gloved hands as Pete blocked with his Captain America shield, all the while screaming lines at each other. Patrick just laughed and shook his head, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Alright you two--outside for a picture of the Avengers before you go save the world and get all the candy.” They both scampered through the open door and into the brisk fall air, and he settled Anastasia into her stroller. Crouching down, he tried to work her foot free of where it had gotten tangled into the safety belt. Finally straightening it all, he pulled her tiny foot with it’s pumpkin-toed shoe through and buckled her securely before standing and grabbing his only allowance for a costume--a pair of glittered bat-wings on a headband that Pete had brought home from Wal-Mart. Settlign on them on his head, he turned back with a smile....

 

Anastasia’s eyes were shining with tears, and she held her arms out to him with a forlorn look that made his heart drop like a lead weight, even as it leapt a bit in his chest. She _never_ reacted to them...so seldom did she show any desires one way or another, instead remaining heart-breakingly compliant. Almost like she didn’t know she was allowed to be loved, or even ask for such a thing. He dropped to his knees and unbuckled the belt, pulling her out of the stroller and cradling her close. “You want daddy to hold you baby girl? So good, so good sweetheart, thank you.” Rising, he turned so they were facing the mirror and pointed at their reflection as he wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Look at us--you’re the prettiest pumpkin ever, and Daddy just looks silly.” He kissed her cheek and she looked at him...not smiling, but there were no more tears, either.

 

“DADDDYYY!!!!!” Either Pete and Oliver were being murdered or they were impatient to go...so he turned from the mirror, tucking his daughter on his hip and sliding the essentials into his pocket before going out and shutting the door behind them both.

 

“What happened to the stroller?” Pete asked as he looked up from where he was lying on his back and holding Ollie in the air so he could fly, and Patrick just shook his head.

 

“She’s light, I’ll carry her.” He snapped a picture of them both, laughing at each other as they pretended, before sliding his phone back in his pocket. “Come on, let’s get a picture of you two by the tree.”

 

Ten minutes later, pictures were taken and selfies completed (at Pete’s request) and they were tromping down the street towards the lit porchlights. Kids of all ages were already out and Pete and Ollie scampered ahead as they reached the first door. Patrick caught the middle of intense plotting about how to say _trick or treat_.

 

They wove through the neighborhood, pausing to take a family picture when the lady with the topiaries at the porch offered, and Patrick wondered what they would look like next year. He looked at the picture as they walked, smiling at Pete and Oliver’s cheesy, overenthusiastic smiles...and sent up a silent prayer to anyone who would listen that soon...soon they’d know.

 

By the end of the night, his pockets were bulging with candy that had been pushed at him as people squealed in delight over Anastasia and her pumpkin suit. She had long since fallen asleep, fair curls tickling his neck as they exploded from the cap. Pete walked next to him, Oliver’s face buried in his shoulder as he clutched his candy pail even in sleep and he smiled.

 

“Sixlets for your thoughts?”

 

“Not only are you trying to bribe me with your son’s candy, but you don’t even offer the good kind? I’m offended.” Patrick laughed as he took the offered cellophane tube, popping a round morsel in his mouth.

 

“Pretty sure no kid likes _sixlets_.” Pete laughed, and Patrick nodded with a shrug.

 

“True.”

  
“No but seriously. I know that look. What are you thinking about?” Pete shifted the candy bucket to loop around the arm around Oliver so he could reach out and lace their fingers.

 

“Just...tomorrow.” He shook his head before pressing a kiss to Anastasia’s pumpkin cap. “I just...I hope we get answers, that we know if the hearing aids are working.” He had read extensively about hearing testing for young children, was fairly certain he knew everything to expect but was still concerned. It was such a terrifying thing to want the best for your child...but not know what the right thing was. “I’d...I just want to give her the world, you know?”

 

“I know.” Pete squeezed his hand before pulling away so he could shift Oliver’s weight and snag another candy from the pail. “And we will. You’ll see.”

 

“Daddy….don’t eat my candyyyy.” Oliver mumbled sleepily, and Patrick couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the guilty look Pete shot him as he dropped the foiled morsel back in the pail.

 

“Cradle-robbing and candy theft. You’re quite the accomplished felon.” He teased and Pete rolled his eyes, reaching out and pinching Patrick’s ass with a grin.

 

“Only when there’s something worth it. I don’t look good in orange, you know that.”

 

Their house came into view, and Patrick let out a deep breath as he looked at Oliver sleeping on Pete’s shoulder, completely at peace. He could feel Anastasia’s fingers twined into the hair at the nape of his neck--the one thing she always seemed to do--and nodded to himself. They’d figure it out--they always had, after all.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Title from "A little less sixteen candles, a little more touch me" because duh.


End file.
